the Phoenix
by PadawanGirl
Summary: The battle against Drago has been won, but Stoick was unable to reach Hiccup in time. They send the young heir off to Valhalla with a Viking funeral and return to Berk. But several months later, a slave ship sails into port bearing a young man who captures Toothless' attention.
1. The Phoenix

**So this story is based of a briliant idea by the tumblr user p-artsypants who kindly gave me permission to turn her idea into a fic of my own. This is my first time taking someone else's idea and writing it out and I am incredibly excited to see how people like it. :)**

**Author's Note (3/24/15): So I have gone back and done some serious editing to this piece. I haven't changed anything really (maybe a minor detail here and there) but instead just fleshed it out some more. Hopefully it doesn't feel quite so rushed now. I really love all the positive feedback I've gotten, like, REALLY love. Your messages are all so sweet. Thank you.**

* * *

Stoick raced down the snowy slope of the mountain, praying to the gods for more speed. He watched on in horror as his son slowly backed away from the advancing Night Fury. A bitterly cold wind stung his face, faintly carrying the sound of Hiccup desperately pleading with Toothless to stop. He was almost there; he would make it in time.

He had to.

The dragon opened his jaws, a high-pitched whistle echoing in the air as the impending blast formed deep in his throat. The dark dragon master, Drago, watched on with glee.

"Hiccup!" shouted Stoick, terror seizing his heart as the boy's back bumped into a wall of ice. "Son!"

Hiccup spotted him from the corner of his eye and raised a hand, his voice a cry of warning. "Dad! No!"

Stoick surged forward, so close he could see the freckles on his son's panicked face. Just a few more steps, only a few-

A blinding flash of purple and Stoick was thrown back through the air, the breath knocked from him as he landed on the hard, frozen ground.

A heavy silence hung in the air, save for the deep panting of the Night Fury. Stoick pushed himself to his knees, following the dragon's vacant gaze to giant shards of ice piled where Hiccup had just stood. A small hand poked out from beneath.

"Son," cried Stoick, stumbling over and flinging the ice aside. Hiccup lay curled on his side, motionless.

Lifeless.

A wail rose up behind the chief. "Hiccup!"

Stoick found himself roughly pushed aside as Valka flung herself down beside her son, frantically pressing her ear to his chest. "Hiccup," she pleaded, shaking his shoulders slightly. "Hiccup, please!" Her brow furrowed together, her lip trembling as she raised a soft hand to lightly brush his still face.

Stoick collapsed to his knees, eyes wide with shock, shaking his head. "No," he breathed. It wasn't possible. His son, his heir, his Hiccup couldn't be…

He could hear Drago chuckle behind him, footsteps crunching in the snow as he walked away.

Valka whimpered as her eyes met her husband's. She reached out for him with one hand, cradling her son's lifeless body to her chest with her other arm as her body shook with sobs. Stoick could only stare on in shock.

A confused coo caught his attention. He raised his head to see Toothless' green eyes were fixed on the boy in Valka's hold, his pupil's fluttering wide as the Alpha released his control over him. His head tilted to the side as a pale hand limply slid to the icy ground. The other dragons and their riders began to land around them, but Toothless' sole focus was his human, his friend, unmoving in his mother's arms.

He crept forward, sniffing at the hand. He nudged the fingers, waiting for Hiccup to pat him, to assure him that everything was okay. But the cold hand never moved. His green eyes never opened. His pale lips formed none of those amusing sounds humans used to converse. Toothless crooned, looking up at Hiccup's parents. Stoick had never seen such heartbreak in a beast's eyes before.

Suddenly those eyes narrowed and Stoick, fearing the Alpha had control again, engulfed his wife and son in his arms. But the Night Fury unleashed a savage roar and spun, charging at the retreating form of Drago. Toothless' intent was so focused the Alpha, no matter how desperately he tried, could not gain control over him. The Bewilderbeast howled in warning and Drago looked up, turning as Toothless lunged, strong jaws snapping closed around the man's neck.

…..

The battle was over.

With Drago dead, Valka's dragons (led by Toothless) had easily defeated the lost and confused Bewilderbeast. His last ditch effort to keep his Alpha status had cost him a tusk and he'd slunk off back into the water, disappearing from sight. It was a victory for the small group.

But nobody was celebrating.

The Vikings gathered on the ashy shore, watching the burning funeral ship glide off into distant waters. Stoick and Valka clung to each other. Astrid stood away from the others, arms wrapped tightly around her middle but back ramrod straight. A deep chill sank into their bones, but it had nothing to do with the frozen surroundings. The only sounds were sniffles and shuddering breaths as they each said their own silent goodbye. Valka's dragons gathered on the beach behind them, softly crooning and murmuring.

As the ship faded to a glowing blur on the horizon, Toothless let out a mournful wail, the sound like icy claws tearing at their hearts. The lone Night Fury padded to the edge of the water, watching the ship long after it passed from the other's view.

Night had fallen and the bitterly cold wind tugged at their hair and clothes, numbing their hands. Valka finally stirred from her spot at Stoick's side, wiping at the burning tears still falling down her cheeks. Her maternal instincts kicked in at the sight of the young riders shivering around her and, much as it broke her heart, she insisted it was time they left.

Astrid stumbled over to Toothless, running a gentle hand over his head. The dragon stared down at her, his eyes storming with pain and confusion. She pressed her forehead to his, letting out one single sob, before squaring her shoulders and climbing onto his saddle.

The two led the way back to Berk.

…..

_Lavender._

_Pink._

_Orange and gold._

_A perfect sunset._

_Stretching across the sky above._

_And a sound._

_The sound of waves._

_Gentle waves, lapping softly against a wooden hull._

_A warm breeze danced across his bare skin, softly tugging at his hair._

_He felt calm._

_Peace._

_He closed his eyes, breathing in the calming sea air._

_The boat drifted ever onward, he knew not how long. It seemed both a lifetime and just a brief moment._

_But he knew he was nearing shore, he could sense it. He sat up, turning to look, just as a large wave crashed over the boat-_

He awoke to pain.

Lots of pain.

It clouded his mind, consumed his every thought. It was all he was.

But then another sensation burst through.

Heat.

Scorching, unbearable heat.

He narrowed his eyes, blinking as his surroundings started to come into focus and another feeling took over.

Terror.

Flames surrounded him, covered him, nipped at his skin with searing bites and burned his lungs with acrid smoke. His left side was in agony, the smell of burnt flesh and singed hair assaulting his nose.

Escape.

He needed to escape.

He forced himself up, gritting his teeth against the waves of pain that washed over him. He slid off the pile crates he'd been on, only to find himself crashing to the burning floor.

No, deck. Burning deck. He was on a ship? And where was his other foot. He clutched at the stump of his left leg, looking up through the haze.

His peg leg was a burnt, twisted heap on the low, burning pyre.

Was he on a funeral boat? But he hadn't died! Had he…? He faintly remembered, as if from a dream, the warm light and a comforting breeze as he drifted along on a calm sea.

A burning timber crashed down beside him, snapping him from his thoughts. He dragged himself across the deck. His body felt as if he'd been trampled by a heard of Gronckles and his left side burned with the heat of a thousand Fire-worm dragons. Every move sent agony through him, but he finally reached the side of the boat. He pulled himself up and gracelessly tumbled over the side.

The plunge into the frigid water below was like being jolted awake from a deep slumber. He struggled to the surface, breaking free with deep, desperate gulps for air. The icy sea quickly began to numb his body, taking the edge off the pain and clearing his mind.

It all started coming back to him.

Drago. The battle. The Alpha.

Toothless!

Toothless had been ordered to attack him.

But he was still alive. At that range, there shouldn't be enough of him left to fill Gobber's mug-hand.

Maybe the Alpha hadn't been as in control as Drago thought.

He glanced back at the burning ship. The others thought he was dead. His mother, his father.

_Astrid._

All believing he was gone.

Maybe he had been.

The memory of that calm sea surfaced again. In this freezing water, it wouldn't be long until he was dead and there would be no coming back. He needed to find shore. He turned left and right, but all around him the ocean stretched on as far as he could see.

"Tooth-" he croaked, his voice hoarse from the smoke. He coughed, trying again. "Toothless," he called weakly. "Astrid? Dad!" He looked to the sky, hoping to see the dark shape of a dragon overhead. "Anybody?" He pleaded. "Help."

His weak, wounded body was already beginning to tire from treading water. He searched the waves nearby, looking for any debris. A small log drifted to his right and with the last of his strength, he swam over and clung to it. The icy water that had previously cleared his mind was now beginning to make him drowsy. He knew if he succumbed to sleep, he would not wake again in this world. But he had no more strength left to fight with.

He hovered on the edge of sleep, struggling to keep the memory of a warm breeze and comforting sunset at bay. But he could see that boat sailing from the mist in his mind, its dark bow drawing ever nearer. It was coming to bear him to Valhalla.

He lost consciousness just as strong hands pulled him from the water.

…..

The entire village had been waiting for the return of the chief. A murmur of shocked whispers had spread through the group upon the sight of Valka, followed quickly by wails of grief at the news of Hiccup. The loss of the Pride of Berk, the boy who had united man and dragon and brought peace to their island hit the entire clan hard. A somber mood had blanketed the village. Humans and dragons alike had sought comfort from each other.

That night, Toothless sat at the edge of the village, staring out into the vast sea, waiting for the return of his rider. Astrid tried to lure him back to her house with promises of tasty treats and belly rubs, but the dragon never left his vigil. In the end, Astrid dragged a fur out of her house and curled up between the Night Fury's front paws.

Stoick tried his best to return some order and normalcy to the village. He asked Astrid and the others to continue Hiccup's work with the Dragon Training Academy. Not a single one of them hesitated. Valka joined them, sharing her knowledge and discoveries from her time spent with the dragons.

Stoick began to train Snotlout the duties of being chief. For all his talk about how he'd have been a better choice for heir, it was painfully obvious that Snotlout was reluctant about taking on the role that had always been meant for Hiccup. He kept glancing apologetically at Astrid when he would return from a lesson with Stoick, until she finally told him that Hiccup would be proud of him. The look of shock on his face didn't completely hide the swell of emotion in his eyes.

He threw himself into the training with great enthusiasm after that.

The entire village had banded together to care for Toothless, trying to coax him out for flights, giving him extra-long chin scratches, sneaking special treats from their tables. But he was deteriorating. He rarely left his spot at the edge of the cliff, gazing out to the sea. His usual sleek black scales had begun to lose their luster and he stopped eating their offered food. Stormfly and Cloudjumper hardly left his side, talking to him with small chirps and croons, trying to help him.

The young riders feared they would lose Toothless as well as Hiccup.

This thought was too much for Astrid and she broke down into tears one night while cuddling up to Toothless. This shook the dragon from his endless surveillance. The pale-furred human never cried and the dark beast knew it was for him and for Hiccup. If Hiccup were there, he would comfort his mate. But Hiccup was gone and it was the least Toothless could do to comfort her in his stead. So he curled himself around the crying girl, nudging her damp cheek with his great, scaly nose and cooing at her, trying to let her know it would all be alright.

He never refused their offers to fly or a basket of fish again.

Time moved on and the village began to move on with it. Spring had arrived and there was much to be done in the few short months before winter returned. Crops to grow, buildings to repair, and provisions to collect.

So when a ship appeared on the horizon, the sail bearing the crest of a slaver merchant, Stoick allowed it into their harbor for the sole purpose of seeing what other wares they may have. Slavery was despised upon Berk, made illegal many generations before, but the ships would be stocked with many other useful resources the merchants had received as payment for the poor souls they sold. And Berk was in desperate need of those resources.

The Vikings gathered around as Gobber lead the merchants up to the plaza in the center of the village, the slaves carting their goods. The slavers shouted commands, whipping those not moving fast enough. The Berkian women ushered their young children inside. Astrid helped Gobber haul out a selection of his finest weaponry to bargain with, sadness lining her face at the sight of the thin men and women struggling to do the merchants' bidding.

She set down the bucket containing several swords and walked over, helping an elderly woman free a cart wheel from a muddy patch of ground. A loud commotion broke out behind them, the old woman flinching and flinging her arms over her head. Astrid patted her back, turning to see what was happening.

"Enough!" bellowed Stock, as a large man shoved a thin boy who was struggling to push a heavy cart over a large rock protruding from the ground. The boy stumbled, failing to catch his footing with the crude, wooden peg leg sloppily attached to what remained of his left calf. He tumbled to the ground with a cry. The slaver yanked his whip from his belt, the end _cracking_ through the air.

But before he could swing, a black blur raced from the crowd with a roar. The Night Fury flung himself over the boy, snarling up at the man who'd shoved him.

"Toothless!" shouted Stoick, striding forward and grabbing ahold of the dragon's saddle. "Crazy dragon."

The Night Fury let out a pitiful croon as the chief pulled him off the boy, struggling to get back to him.

The slaver lifted his whip, ready to strike the slave still on the ground, but Stoick called back over his shoulder, "Hurt that boy and I will release the dragon!" The slaver stepped back with a huff.

The villagers moved forward to browse the offered wares as Stoick dragged the dragon from the plaza. Astrid gave the old woman one more reassuring pat on the back and slowly moved over to selection of fabrics in a nearby cart. She tried to make herself look through them, but found her gaze drawn to the thin boy, no, young man still sat on the ground, watching the retreating form of the Night Fury.

Wide tear tracks sliced through a thick layer of dirt and grime, leaving two pristine white columns on his otherwise ashen skin. As Toothless let out a mournful wail in the distance, the young man's face, left side covered in fresh burn scars, contorted into a look of pure anguish and pain, his frail body shaking with suppressed sobs. Astrid's heart broke at the sight.

The young man collapsed in on himself as Stoick returned without Toothless. The slave pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping thin arms around them and dropping his face until all that was visible was a head with dark hair roughly hacked as close to the scalp as possible. His bony shoulders shook with the force of his tears.

Astrid stared at the youth, wanting to wrap him in her arms and comfort him, protect him. She wanted to see the brief glimpse of pure joy that had been on his gaunt face at the sight of the Night Fury, not the agony that had replaced it. Her eyes flashed dangerously as a slaver passed the young man, giving him a swift kick for sitting on the ground.

Squaring her shoulders, she dropped the piece of fabric she'd been holding and strode to the slaver now standing a few paces from the thin youth. "How much?"

The merchant glanced at her. "For the cloth?"

"For him." She pointed to the slave still sobbing into his knees.

The slaver sneered at her, eyeing her up and down. "What d'ya have to offer?"

"Astrid!" Stoick stepped up beside her, staring between the two of them. "You know slavery is banned on Berk."

"Stoick, please," pleaded Astrid, motioning to the frail slave. "Look at him, he won't survive if he stays with them!"

The merchant shrugged his agreement.

"Astrid-"

"We can always use an extra hand on Berk. With summer coming, we'll have enough food to nurse him back to health. He could help out on the fishing boats, or up in the fields. Or he could help at the Academy, Toothless obviously already likes him." She saw the slave's head perk up slightly at the mention of the dragon.

Stoick stared at her, his expression unreadable.

"Please, we can't just leave him to d-die," she whispered, stumbling on the last word.

Stoick's gaze softened, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder.

The merchant watched the exchange, brow raised. "Tell ya what, my friend," he said. "Ya can have that one, free of charge, if we can make a deal to return to your port once a year to do trade." He held out a hand.

The chief eyed the man distrustfully. His gaze quickly flickered from the slave still curled up on the ground to the whip in the man's other hand, before he slowly reached out and shook.

"We have a deal. So long as no physical punishment is used on anyone while you are on my island," he added with a growl.

The merchant shrugged again and hooked his whip to his belt. He strode over and seized the slave under the shoulders, dragging him over and dropping him at Astrid's feet. "He's all yours."

The young man pressed against Astrid's side, wrapping his bony arms around her knees. She reached down and awkwardly patted his stubbly head as the slaver marched off. She could feel his heart beating wildly beneath the ribs digging into her legs, his arms around her trembling.

She tried to step free of his grip, but he wouldn't relent, as if afraid if he let go he'd be taken away. "I'm just going to go look at the dishes," she said, glancing over to the cart Valka stood by. The only response she got was his frantically shaking head. She looked down, but he had his face pressed against her leg.

So they stood like that as the villagers concluded their trading and the merchants ordered the remaining slaves to haul the carts back to the docks. As the last echo of the slavers' voices faded, the youth at her side suddenly shot up, engulfing Astrid in a crushing embrace.

"Thank you," he sobbed, face pressed into her neck. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Astrid froze, eyes widening.

She knew that voice.

Bracing her hands on his shoulders, she slowly pushed him back. Bright green eyes rose to meet hers and the air in Astrid's lungs vanished. Beside her, Stoick gasped.

"Hiccup?" croaked Astrid.

She stared at his face, freckles just peeking out from beneath the dirt, the thin scar on his chin easily overlooked with the swirl of burn scars covering the other side of his face.

"Stoick, I got these for-" A crash to the right caused them all to spin.

Valka stood amidst the shattered remains of dishes she'd just purchased. Her chest rose with great gasps as she clutched over her heart, her green eyes wide in her pale face as she stared at the young man still clutching to Astrid.

"Son?" she breathed.

"Mom," Hiccup sobbed.

Valka surged forward, yanking Hiccup into her arms. She cried into his shoulder, running one hand along his back, the other over his sparse hair. Hiccup turned his head, staring up at his dad through watery eyes. Stock's breath hitched as he fought back a sob of his own and he stepped forward, wrapping his large arms around both of them.

When Astrid made no move, the chief reached out and yanked her into the hug as well. The action sent a weak chuckle through the group.

The villagers had begun to gather around them, whispers already spreading through crowd. Hiccup was alive. The Pride of Berk had returned.

A loud explosion suddenly rang through the air and the crowd gasped as a plume of smoke rose from the chief's house. A cry of "Night Fury!" sounded from the crowd mere seconds before the black beast hurtled over the backs of the villagers to land in front of the group wrapped around Hiccup.

He gently untangled himself from his family and limped forward as Toothless sat, his whole body wagging in excitement.

Hiccup raised a hand and ran it over Toothless' face before wrapping his arms around the dragon's neck. "I've missed you too, bud."

The dragon draped a paw around him, nuzzling the back of his head with his great cheek.

* * *

**I loved the idea of Hiccup coming back to life after being blasted by Toothless. In my head, the roar Toothless does before attacking Drago is what started Hiccup's heart again.**

**It is always so interesting to listen to people who have died and been resuscitated. One of my friends had died for a few minutes before they started his heart again with a shot of adrenaline. It was moving to listen to him explain what he experienced in that time. That's where the idea behind the warm breeze and the calm sea Hiccup remembers came from. (My friend's experience was very different, but it was personal to him so I didn't want to copy.)**

**Edit: I've had several requests to add more chapters (recovery, what happened while he was with the slavers, etc). I've not been ignoring those requests, I just have not had the inspiration for those parts of the story yet. I won't promise I will, but if the muse comes along and gifts me a plot for those, I will write it. I hope this one, with a little more to it now, is a better stand alone piece for the time being.**

**As always, thank you for reading. Tell me what you think. xoxo**


	2. The Flashback Sequence

**How the #$ &amp;ity !%*$ did this end up longer than the first part? I thought for sure I'd be struggling for even a page or two.**

**But here it is! The flashback sequence. I had the first bit typed up the day after I posted the revised version of chapter one. But then it took me a while to figure out how to "break" Hiccup, how to get him to the point he was at when he returned to Berk. I knew it'd take something... different, than just being beaten up by some slavers. And I think I got it perfectly.**

**Please don't hate me. :P**

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The men dragged the limp, drenched boy from the sea, unceremoniously dropping him on the deck. The captain stomped over, staring down at the motionless body. The thin boy was covered in angry burns, the entire left side of his torso and face a blistered mess. There were only tattered remains of what looked to have been a form fitting outfit and a good portion of his left leg was missing.

The captain squinted at the two men who'd pulled him in. "What'd ya fish that in for?"

"I dunno. Though' he might be worth som'ing."

The captain cuffed the large man on the back the head. "What use is a corpse?"

"I though' I'd seen him movin'!"

"He looks dead a'right," said the other man.

His friend elbowed him side.

"Throw him back o'er board, we don't nee-"

A soft groan drew all their gazed down.

The boy's dark lashes fluttered slightly as he moaned in pain.

"Gods almighty, he _is _alive," breathed the captain. He glanced up at his men. "Toss him in with the others. We'll see if he survives the night."

The larger man reached down and slung the boy over his shoulder like he weighed nothing. He hurried to the center of the deck, yanking open the dark hold and, none to gently, dropping the boy inside. "Got another one for ya. If he dies, we'll be back for 'im in the mornin'," he said, before slamming the grate shut.

…..

The first thing Hiccup felt upon waking was pain.

Lots of pain.

Again.

Well, that meant he was alive at least, right?

He sucked on his bottom lip, drawing deep breaths through his nose, trying to focus past the pain. He slowly opened his eyes, wincing as the motion pulled on the damaged skin around the left one.

At least he could still see.

Or, he could before, in the water. Now he couldn't see anything, just pitch black. He lifted his right hand, breath quickening as he frantically waved it in front of his face.

A sharp _tsk_ above his head startled him and he cried out as something clutched his hand. He tried to get his body into a sitting position, but the waves of pain coursing through him halted his attempts. Instead he narrowed his eyes, trying to bring things into focus.

His breathing began to calm as he realized he could see the dark outlines of his surroundings. His eyes widened though as they were met by a pair of dark, sunken eyes staring down at him. A thin, wisp of an old woman leaned above him, her thin, dry hand clutching his.

"You must lie still," she croaked in a hoarse whisper, as if she didn't speak often. "You're badly injured."

"Where am I?" he rasped back.

Sadness flashed across her face. "Rest, it's still night," she said instead, ignoring his question.

He found his eyes already drifting closed again. "What's your name?"

Silence. He was almost asleep when he heard just the barest whisper. "Elska."

"I'm… Hiccup," he muttered, before drifting off to sleep.

…..

This time it was the searing, bright light Hiccup noticed first upon waking.

Then the pain.

He opened his eyes just the narrowest bit, allowing them to adjust to the brightness. A loud commotion overhead caught his attention.

"Is he still alive?"

"I dunno."

The sound of someone being slapped. "Well, why don't ya pull him out and check?"

A screech of metal and then the blinding glare was blocked as someone looked down from above. Hiccup's gaze focused in on a large, hairy man staring down at him.

"His eyes are open," the man said to someone behind him.

"Dead people's eyes can be open too," came a nervous voice from above.

"Gods above, just get him up here," roared the first person he'd heard speak.

Hiccup squeaked as a rope ladder was dropped down, the large, tattoo-covered man quickly scaling down it. He was roughly grabbed and tossed over a broad shoulder, for the first time taking in his surroundings. He'd been in the hold of a boat. More than that, he was shocked to find himself staring into a couple dozen dirty, thin faces. Men, women, and a few children, they're bodies emaciated, their clothing little more than rags.

Oh gods.

He was on a slaving ship.

He caught a brief glimpse of the old woman he'd spoke to last night, Elska, her eyes wide with panic, before the large man climbed back up the rope and dropped him roughly to the ship's deck.

Hiccup hissed at the sharp spasm of pain that shot through him as he landed, fortunately on his good side. Well, _better_ side.

A giant mass of a man, larger even than Stoick, strode over to Hiccup, staring down at him with a sneer. Hiccup could only gape up at him in shock. "Well, he's alive. Barely." The man glanced him over. "Those burns are gonna take forever to heal. And he's missin' a leg. Can't even walk. I'm not sure he's worth the trouble."

"Cap'ain, if he heals up right good, we could at least get some'ing for 'im," said a stout little man standing to the side.

The mountain of a man turned to glare at him. "Who's gonna pay for a scrawny, one-legged kid? Especially one all charred up?"

"Lodinn!" cried the tattooed man who'd climbed into the hold, motioning for the captain's attention. When the great man, Lodinn, turned, he pointed to the deck where Hiccup was struggling up into an almost-sitting position.

"My," he wheezed, throat dry and scratchy, "My father will pay for me. He's the chie-"

With a snarl, Lodinn reached down and struck him across the face.

Hiccup shrieked in agony, collapsing back on the deck.

"Do not speak unless told, boy. Understood?" he growled. "Understood?" he roared when he got no answer.

Hiccup nodded weakly, still trembling in pain.

The captain straightened, running a hand through his greasy hair. "You have no family. You have no friends. You have _no one._ And you'd be best to remember tha'. You belong to us now. And we decide yer future."

Hiccup glared up at him.

Lodinn chuckled. "He's got fight, this one. Spirit." He stared down at Hiccup, eyes narrowed. "Fix him up a leg from the scrap timber."

He turned, walking away. "And break him of that spirit," he growled back over his shoulder. "Throw him down with the others for now."

…..

Hiccup shivered as a bitter wind tore at the thin, ratty clothes that replaced his burnt, torn flight suit. He'd been down in the hold for about two weeks, as best as he could guess, fighting off sickness from his untreated wounds. Elska and the other women had taken turns watching over him. Feeding him small portions of their food in his more lucid moments, using precious drops of their drinking water to dab at his forehead with corners of their skirts.

Hiccup remembered little of it, having been lost in feverish dreams of Berk and Toothless. Dragon racing, expanding his map, watching sunsets with Astrid. He cried when his fever finally broke and he realized he was, indeed, on a slaving ship. The others in the hold had gently patted the uninjured bits of him, but no one uttered any words of comfort.

Really, what could they say?

A few days later he was hoisted up on deck where he'd been stripped of his suit and dressed up in the rags he wore now. A piece of wood, a good few inches shorter than the bottom of his other leg, had been pulled from the scrap pile and tied to the stump of his left calf with a rough rope that chafed his skin. He winced with every, hobbley step, but was glad he wasn't being dragged around anymore.

Now he sat hugging his torso tightly against the cold as Elska (who'd been yanked away from where she was scrubbing the dishware with the other women slaves to ready it for trade) cut away the uneven patches of the hair caused by the fire. A crewmen stood watch as she used a dull blade to hack is auburn locks closely to his scalp, muttering apologies as the hair tugged at his healing skin. He forced himself not to wince, closing his eyes and focusing instead on the soft massage of her dry fingers as she ran them over each newly exposed bit of scalp.

As the last bit of his hair fluttered down to the deck, she drew her hand back across his head. "Finished."

The guard lumbered forward, jerking the knife from her hand and shoving her back in the direction of the other woman. Hiccup stared up at him, forcing himself to stop shivering.

The man didn't say a word, just pointing back to the grate covered hold.

Hiccup sighed, standing from the crate he'd been perched on and staggering after the guard, awkwardly clambering down the rope with his good arm as the grate was lifted. He closed his eyes as the metal clanged shut above him.

…..

Every morning for the next few weeks, the other slaves were brought up to deck to work on various projects and Hiccup was left alone.

All day.

How had he spent his days alone so much as a child? He was going mad with boredom.

Of course, it was different when he'd been back on Berk. He could draw, he could explore, he could _do_ something.

At least at night he had Elska. She didn't talk much, no more than a few words a day usually, but she made sure he received some of the food and water that was lowered to them each morning and night. She slept by him each night, waking him from nightmares that frequented his sleep. It was always the same dream: his best friend advancing upon him, green eyes void of recognition, pupils quivering, as Hiccup was trapped against a wall of ice. He would sob softly, trying not to wake the others, as Elska gently cradled his head in her arms.

He would have gone mad already without her.

Well, more so than he was going, spending all day by himself.

He beat his head softly against the hull of the ship, glancing around in the gloomy light of the hold. His left hand was propped up on his knee and he traced shapes of dragons in the air with a piece of dirty straw that had been littered across the floor for their "beds".

The only time he had been let out of the hold was when they had docked in a port last week and the slavers had lined them all up on the docks to auction them off. No one had shown the slightest interest in Hiccup and he spent the day straining to see the village just up the hill from the harbor. It looked vaguely familiar, but he could not determine exactly where they were. Not anywhere friendly to Berk, if the number of their group who'd been sold was anything to go by.

Berk hated slavery.

He'd stumbled back to the ship at the end of the day, happy to see Elska shuffling along a ways ahead of him. They're numbers had been reduced by almost half, maybe a dozen of them remained.

The loud clang of the grate opening startled him. He staggered to his feet, hobbling over as a rope was lowered. He tried to climb up, but the healing skin of his left arm and weakening muscles prevented him. He clung to the rope tightly as he was pulled up.

The tatooed merchant plopped him down onto the deck.

"Ya got to clean the carts," the man gruffed, pointing to the stern of the ship.

Hiccup glanced back over his shoulder, only seeing stacks upon stacks of wares. "I don't see any carts."

The guard growled. Actually growled. "Way in the back." He reached down and picked up a bucket of ice cold water and a filthy rag. "'Ere ya go," he said, shoving them into Hiccup's hands and motioning to the stern again.

Hiccup stared at the man a few more seconds before turning and limping away. He was glad they'd finally freed him from the hold but didn't trust their motives. He limped past the merchants watching as the slaves worked on various tasks with the goods. He rounded the last stack and stumbled to a halt.

The carts were filthy.

The wheels and sides were caked in layers of dirt and muck. It was clear they had not been cleaned in a long time, if ever.

And there was no one else back here working. He would still be spending his day alone.

Two thoughts went through his mind.

First, that the captain _really _hated him.

And second, he was going to need more water.

He hobbled to the very last cart, way at the back, wanting to be out of the wind as much as possible. He set down the bucket, gingerly lowering himself down beside it and wetting the rag. Wedged between the side of the boat and the cart, the wind couldn't reach him as much. With a sigh, he started scrubbing at the mud caked onto the wheel.

It was quiet, but not a suffocating quiet like it had been in the hold. He let himself get lost in the whistle of the wind over his head, the hiss of the waves breaking against the sides of the ship. A light mist dampened his scalp. He started to softly sing the songs he'd heard Gobber sing while working.

He shifted his legs as they started to lose feeling, pleased with the progress he'd made so far. Half of the wheel was now muck-free. He wrung the rag out, staring into the now filthy water. He needed a fresh bucket. He thought about going to ask the crewman, but well, he didn't want to. He glanced around, noticing a small pile of scrap canvas and rope near the front of the cart.

He staggered to his feet, limping over to see if any of the rope was long enough to reach the water with. He was pulling a coil from the pile when the canvas suddenly moved.

Hiccup dropped the rope, stumbling back in surprise. He was preparing to run away, or at least try his best to, when a small snout suddenly peaked out from under the canvas

A dragon crept out from underneath.

Hiccup's jaw dropped, his eyes widening.

The tiny Terrible Terror stared up at him, head tilted to the side.

Hiccup slowly crouched down, holding his hand out. "Hey little girl, it's okay."

The dragon crept forward, sniffing his hand before rubbing against it with chirping purr.

Hiccup smiled, petting her pale blue sides. "You must've snuck aboard at our last stop, huh?"

She nosed at his clothing, sniffing.

"Sorry, girl, I don't have any food."

She stared at him again, head tilted to the other side.

"If they send me back here again, I'll try and bring you some next time." He stood and grabbed the rope, walking over and tying it to the bucket handle. After drawing in a fresh bucket of water, he sat down by the wheel again. He turned to look for the dragon and jumped slightly to find her sitting right by his side. "You're a sneaky one, aren't you?" he chuckled.

The dragon clambered into his lap, turning in a circle once and laying down to sleep.

"We need a name for you," he continued, scrubbing at the wheel again. The Terrible Terror peeked up at him with one eye. "How about Tiptoe?"

She closed her eye, nuzzling further into his lap.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said. "Tiptoe it is."

With Tiptoe's tiny body warming his, he decided he could get used to spending his days alone back here.

...

Over the next week, they developed a routine. Every morning, much to his relief, Hiccup was pulled on deck and sent back to clean the carts. Alone. He hid most of his breakfast, which always consisted of a small chunk of bread and a piece of cured fish, in the large, random pocket on the front of his tunic. Tiptoe would peak out from under the canvas and, seeing that it was Hiccup, would dart out and circle is feet until he fed her the bits of food.

Then she'd follow him around as the scrubbed the carts clean, sitting by his feet or climbing into his lap when he sat. He'd sing to her and tell stories from his life. He talked about Berk, about his friends, about Toothless and the dragons. Tiptoe would stare up at him, head tilted to the side, as if captivated by his narratives.

One day, Hiccup noticed his reflection in the bucket of water, seeing for the first time the results of his burns. Scars swirled across the left side of his face in an almost hauntingly beautiful pattern, trailing down his neck and across most of his left side, he knew. With his short cropped hair and dirty face, he almost didn't recognize himself. He forced himself not to look at his reflection again.

In the evening when the guards would start shouting for him, stomping back to the carts, Hiccup would shoo Tiptoe back to her hiding place. She had no trouble obeying as the loud footsteps drew ever nearer. He'd watch her scurrying under the carts, silent as a shadow, and breathe a sigh of relief.

It was a rare day of nicer weather. Spring must be starting to arrive. Tiptoe was stretched out on top of the wheel of the cart Hiccup was cleaning, enjoy the rays of sun that occasionally peaked out from the clouds. Hiccup smiled back at her over his shoulder, before turning around to draw the bucket of water back up. He grabbed the handle, gathering the rope and spinning-

The bucket fell from his hands, water splashing across the deck.

Three guards stood behind him, staring warily at the dragon still dozing on the cart. Hiccup started to panic. He hadn't heard them coming, how had he not heard them coming? Their presence was always well announced.

"Don' move," whispered one of the guards, slowly creeping towards the unaware Terrible Terror.

"No, wait," cried Hiccup, rushing forward, only to be pulled back into the crushing grip of the largest crewman.

Tiptoe's head had shot up at Hiccup's cry, her eyes widening at the three unfamiliar faces.

"Tiptoe, fly!" screamed Hiccup, motioning frantically up.

The dragon glanced from Hiccup to the advancing, burly men, her tiny body shaking. She unfurled her wings, leaping into the air. But she was a second too late. A large hand shot out and grabbed her hind leg, holding her in place as her small wings beat desperately, trying to free herself.

Hiccup kicked back with his uneven legs, trying break free from the meaty arm wrapped crushingly around his thin chest. Tiptoe's snarls and cries as she fought to escape were like knives to his heart. He glanced up to see one man holding her small paws in his giant hands and another with a hand wrapped firmly around her muzzle.

"What's all the noise?"

Hiccup's heart sank at the angry shout from Lodinn behind them, the heavy thud of his boots drawing closer. He passed the man holding Hiccup, stopping beside those holding Tiptoe. He stared down at the quivering dragon, brows furrowed. "What's this?"

"It's a dragon, sir," said the man holding her jaw.

Lodinn smacked him across the back the head. "I know it's a dragon! What is it doing here?"

"He had it," murmured the other man, nodding to Hiccup.

Lodinn turned slowly, glaring at Hiccup. "What?"

"We found 'im with it, by the carts. Tried to help it escape."

Lodinn stomped over to Hiccup. "You stupid, boy? Think ya gonna train a dragon to help ya break free?" He glanced back at Tiptoe. "Even if you could train it, you'd need a bigger beast than that, even for your scrawny ass," he sneered.

"I-I wasn't training her, s-she just watched me work. She wasn't harming anyone. Please, just let her go, please," pleaded Hiccup.

The captain's eyes narrowed as he studied his face. He walked back over to the tiny Terrible Terror. "Ya know, I always wanted a dragon of my own." He looked back at Hiccup with a sneer. "We just need to make sure it can't fly away." He pulled the sword from his belt. "Hold its wings out."

"NO!" screamed Hiccup, eyes wide with horror. "Don't hurt her! Please don't hurt her!" He scratched at the arms holding him in place, sharp kicks connecting with shinbones, but the mountain of a man behind him didn't even acknowledge that he'd felt anything.

Lodinn raised his sword as the men stretched out Tiptoe's wings. The small dragon's eyes were wide with pure terror, rolling from side to side, searching for any help.

The cry of pain she unleashed as the sword cleaved her left wing from her body broke something inside Hiccup. Tears streamed down his face as the same was done to her right wing. Tiptoe's cries had dwindled to pained squeaks.

The captain admired the bright blood glistening on his sword. "Burn the wounds," he barked. "Don't want my pet bleedin' to death."

Moving his sword to his other hand, he walked back over and stopped in from of Hiccup.

Hiccup cried out as a fist suddenly collided with his still healing face. He crumpled to the ground as the man behind him finally relinquished his grip. Holding a hand gingerly over his burning cheek, he stared up at the captain.

"If I find you disobeying again, I'll make you wish you were dead," said Lodinn, voice low and eyes dark. "Do you understand?"

Hiccup's eyes fell to where the men were cauterizing the stumps that remind of the Terrible Terror's wings. "Yes, sir," he answered quietly.

"Finishing cleaning the carts," Lodinn growled. "And watch him," he ordered the guard. "When he's done, throw him back down in the hold." With one last glance back at the whimpering dragon, he stormed off.

Hiccup closed his eyes and sobbed.

…..

Hiccup's punishment had been to continue cleaning the carts, all through the night (much to the guards displeasure), until every last one of them was clean.

And then he was left down in the hold again for a week.

The other slaves had given him peculiar looks, having heard what had happened, having seen Tiptoe. He'd hear them murmuring about how he must be losing it, trying to befriend a dragon. He didn't have the energy to try and explain to them. At least Elska still stuck by his side, though silent as always.

After eight days, Hiccup was finally brought back up on deck. The slaves were ordered what tasks they were to work on, the guards splitting up to lead each little group to the wares. Hiccup slowly trudged after the other two young men he'd be helping repair fishing nets with. As they crossed the deck, he glanced around, searching to see where Elska had been sent, when he froze.

Hiccup's heart shattered at the sight of Tiptoe chained to the mast. The tiny dragon was weak from starvation, the wounds on her back festering from neglect. She blinked open pain hazed eyes, a pitiful whine escaping her as her gaze fell on Hiccup. She struggled to lift her head, letting it fall with a soft thump after a few attempts.

Hiccup stared at small Terrible Terror trembling from pain and infection. Her suffering was all his fault and there was nothing he could do about it. No way he could end her pain.

Except for one.

He glanced around. The guards were occupied with directing the other slaves to their assigned tasks. Hiccup hobbled a few steps closer to the dragon, pausing to see if anyone noticed. When no one came running or shouted, he quickly staggered the last few feet, dropping down beside her.

Tiptoe blinked her eyes open again, giving a small coo of recognition.

Hiccup ran a gentle hand across her cheek. "I'm so sorry, Tiptoe," he whispered, tears splattering down onto the deck. "I'm so, so sorry."

Tiptoe gave a pained whimper, her eyes drooping closed again.

Hiccup ran a shaky hand across his face. "I wish I could have saved you. Gotten you off the ship, away from this bad place." He slid his hand down to cup her chin. "I wish I could have brought you to Berk. You'd have loved Berk." He slid his other hand to grasp firmly around her neck. "Lots of other dragons to play with, fresh fish to eat, sheep to terrorize. It's wonderful place to call home." He closed his eyes, releasing a shaky breath. "I hope there's sheep in Valhalla." He sharply twisted his hands, snapping her neck, like his dad had taught him with rabbits while hunting.

He slowly opened his eyes, glancing down. Tiptoe's tiny was still, her eyes partially open. The look of pain was gone and Hiccup let himself believe she looked at peace now. His shoulders shook with sobs as he gently slid her eyes closed, petting her cheek. His vision blurred from the tears and he gasped as what he'd just done began to sink in. He leaned down, resting his forehead to hers. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," he whispered, rocking back and forth.

"Oy! What you doin'?"

A large hand wrapped around his bicep in a vice-like grip, yanking him away from Tiptoe. He was tossed down onto the deck, barely wincing as his head bounced off the solid timbers. He stared vacantly at the tiny dragon body still chained to the mast, lying there as if asleep.

He gave only a faint cry as the first sharp, crack of a whip slashed across his back. He felt cold and hollow inside. He barely registered the whip biting into his skin several more times.

He'd killed her.

He, Hiccup, had killed a dragon.

He had to do it! Right? She was suffering, dying slowly, painfully. He couldn't let her suffer like that.

But he'd killed her.

Killed a dragon.

Dragon killer…

He didn't even blink as Lodinn's face leaned down in front of his, his foul breath washing over Hiccup as he spoke.

"I told you I'd break you, boy."

Hiccup stared ahead vacantly.

_Dragon killer._

…..

Hiccup sat in a daze. He felt empty. Cold. Exhausted.

It'd been four days since he'd killed Tiptoe.

Killed a dragon.

The captain had ordered he be left in the hold indefinitely. He sat leaning against the hull of the ship, unmoving, staring ahead without seeing. His mind was numb. He forced himself to keep his thoughts blank.

The first night his dreams were haunted by a new image.

His hands, rough and dirty, snapping Tiptoe's small neck, the life fading from her eyes.

He woke sobbing, Elska gently rocking him back and forth.

He hadn't slept since.

He was barely aware of a commotion above. He blinked as the grate clanged open, eyes focusing as a rope was lowered. His brow furrowed slightly.

"Oy, take the rope or we leave ya behind," someone shouted down.

Hiccup slowly crawled over to the rope, his body stiff from having sat in the same spot so long. As he grabbed hold, he was quickly yanked up. He squeezed his eyes against the bright sunlight as he was plopped down onto the deck. Squinting, he glanced around, seeing the carts loaded, the other slaves slowly pushing them off the ship onto a dock. As his eyes quickly adjusted, his gaze drifted up to see the port they had stopped in and his jaw dropped.

They were on Berk.

As the guard shoved him towards a cart loaded with an assortment of weaponry, Hiccup thought for sure he must be dreaming. Surely he must have passed out from sleep deprivation. It all seemed too good to be true.

He was back on Berk.

Pushing the cart onto the dock, straining with his diminished strength, he barely dared to breathe. Any minute now he expected it all to vanish, to wake back in the never ending nightmare the last few months had been. He trembled as they trudged up the path to the plaza. Excitement fluttered in his chest as familiar faces of his village came into view.

He would be saved! They would see him, they would know he was alive, and they would free him from the slavers! He began to tremble with anticipation, glanced around hopefully, ignoring the shouted threats from the merchants, the loud crack of their whips.

But as villager after villager looked right past him, his heart fell.

No one recognized him.

No one knew he was there.

No one was going to save him.

He felt his chest constrict as he saw Astrid cross the plaza to help Elska free her cart from a muddy patch of earth. She looked even more beautiful than he remembered and he opened his mouth to call out to her-

Only to grunt as the cart came to a sudden, jarring halt.

He glanced to see the wheel stuck against a large rock. He planted his uneven feet as firmly as he could, shaking with effort as he tried to push the cart forward. When it wouldn't budge, he tried pulling it back, his good leg slipping on the earth. He straightened back up, best he could, and glanced down at the wheel again, trying to formulate a plan.

"What's going on?" Lodinn roared from behind him.

Hiccup cried out as he was roughly shoved to the side, his balance thrown off and he crashed to the ground. He quickly curled into a ball as he saw Lodinn reach for his whip, bracing himself for the punishment to come.

Suddenly everything went dark and his head echoed with a thunderous roar.

Hiccup lifted his head, glancing up to see a familiar dark, scaly belly.

Toothless!

He started to cry with relief. He _was_ saved!

"Toothless! Crazy dragon," he heard his father shout.

He was momentarily blinded again as Toothless was pulled off him. He looked up, smile falling as Toothless crooned sadly, staring at Hiccup in panic as he desperately tried to escape from Stoick's grasp. The chief pulled the dragon from the plaza, stopping only long enough to threaten Lodinn over his shoulder.

He stared at the spot where Toothless had disappeared from his sight, tears flooding down his face and his whole body shaking as he held back sobs. Toothless would break free. He'd come running back. Any second now. He'd save him. He'd free Hiccup.

Any second now.

His father returned, Toothless nowhere in sight.

His once chance was gone.

His hope was snuffed out like a lantern in the wind. He pulled his knees up, wrapping his arms around them and hiding his face as he sobbed so hard his whole body hurt. He'd come so close, _so _close. He didn't even react when Lodinn walked by and kicked him, hard, muttering that if he didn't get up that instant he would regret it.

Nothing the man could do to him would hurt as bad as watching his chance at freedom be led away by his own father.

Maybe this was the gods punishment for what he'd done to Tiptoe. Maybe he deserved this for killing her.

He forced himself to stop crying, taking deep gulps of air. He'd just have to accept his fate.

He slowly became aware that Lodinn was talking again. But not to him. He started in surprise as he heard Astrid's voice, followed by his dad's. They seemed to be arguing. He couldn't stop his head from perking up when Astrid mentioned Toothless. He held his breath when he heard Lodinn stomping over to him, gasping as he was roughly seized under the arms and dragged across the ground. His eyes widened as he was dropped and he came face to foot with a familiar pair of furry boots.

It was too good to be true.

He pushed himself into a seated position and clutched Astrid's knees in a desperate hold. He almost cried as her soft hand gently patted the top of his head. He could barely breathe, terrified at any moment Lodinn would return and take him away. His heart beat so fast it ached, his whole body shaking. He pressed his face into her leg, calmed slightly by the strong muscles, the warmth of her body and her familiar scent.

His grip turned vice-like though as he felt Astrid try to pull away, saying she was just going to go look in the carts. He shook his head furiously. He couldn't let go. He couldn't risk it. The slavers would have to pry him off from Astrid if they wanted to take him with them.

But much to his surprise, he heard the merchants ordering the other slaves to return to the ship. He turned his head a mere fraction of an inch, just enough to peer around Astrid, and watched as the slavers disappeared back down the path to the harbor, Gobber trailing after them.

As the last echo of their shouts faded on the gentle wind, Hiccup breath left him in a rush of relief. He shot up, crushing Astrid in a desperate hug. He buried his face into her neck, breathing her scent in again. "Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you." He was sobbing in relief, just starting to believe this was actually happening.

Somehow, Astrid had saved him. He was free.

He felt Astrid stiffen in his hold. Her arms slowly rose, pushing on his shoulders until he was forced to step back. He sniffed, raising his head to look at her.

The color had drained from Astrid's face, her pale blue eyes wide with both recognition and disbelief. Her jaw hung open as she stared at him. Beside them, Hiccup heard his dad gasp.

"Hiccup?" Astrid croaked.

"Stoick, I got these for-"

A large crash to his right caused Hiccup to spin, holding Astrid for support.

Valka stood amidst the shattered remains of dishes she'd just purchased. Her chest rose with great gasps as she clutched over her heart, her green eyes wide in her pale face as she stared at him. He felt a swell of emotions bubbling up in his chest.

"Son?" she breathed.

The bubble burst. "Mom," he sobbed.

Valka rushed forward, pulling him into her arms. He hugged her back tightly as she cried into his shoulder. She was running one hand along his back, the other over his head. His eyes teared up at the gentle touches. He glanced up to see Stoick staring at both of them, his own eyes misting with tears. He stepped forward, wrapping his large arms around them both. It was the safest Hiccup had felt in a long time.

He chuckled when Stoick let go long enough to pull Astrid into the hug, the others giggling as well. Hiccup closed his eyes, relaxing, allowing himself to be held up by his family, the ones he love most in this world. The only one who was missing was-

_BOOM!_

They all glanced up to see a plume of smoke rise into the air.

"Night Fury!"

Hiccup untangled himself from the center of the hug, stepping out to see Toothless sitting at the head of the villagers who'd gather around. The Night Fury's whole body was wagging with excitement as Hiccup hobbled over to him.

He raised a hand, caressing the dragon's face, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around his neck. "I've missed you too, bud."

His face split into a grin as he felt Toothless carefully wrap a paw around him, hugging him back.

He was safe.

He was home.

* * *

**I don't know if Vikings believed animals went to Valhalla. I tried to do some research on it, but couldn't find any concrete info, so I just went with it, for story purposes. I also was having some fun naming Elska and Lodin, for anyone who's a name nerd like me. Like with Astrid meaning "divine strength" and Valka meaning "healthy, strong" and Stoick means "to stand." So, Elska means "love" and Lodinn (with that cool looking Norwegian d with the line, I'm sorry I don't know what it's called) means "hairy."**

**I have only had vague ideas of a recovery sequence. Same as with the flashback, if more concrete ideas start forming, I'll write another part.**

**Again, I have no idea how this chapter got so long. Especially since I feel like I didn't even say very much. :/ You're feedback so far has all been so lovely! :) I was worried maybe this would be too... mild? I dunno how to exactly explain what my worry was. I just know I wanted to make sure it wasn't super gory or gruesome, but something that could feasibly be an "alternative ending" or whatever to the movie.**

**I'm glad everyone has enjoyed it so far. At least, everyone who's commented so far. (If you read it and didn't enjoy it, I'm sorry. But thank you for reading it anyway! :) )**

**xoxo**


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